The cardinal archbishop of Madrid, José Cobo, has left the door open to a possible meeting between Pope Leo XIV and singer Bad Bunny during the Pontiff’s visit to Spain from June 6 to 12.
In statements to Europa Press, Cobo said that “bridges can be built” with the cultural world and assured that there would be no incompatibility between the Pope’s presence in Madrid and the concerts the Puerto Rican artist will give in the capital those same days.
In addition, he regretted that the possible meeting with Rosalía, recently awarded by the Spanish Episcopal Conference, was not possible due to the artist’s schedule.
Everything moves within the same language: bridges, dialogue, encounter, shared search for values.
And yet, the more that discourse is heard, the more evident another detail becomes: some of the great historical and spiritual symbols of Spanish Catholicism have been completely left out of the visit’s horizon.
A carefully designed visit
The agenda of Leo XIV in Spain is not improvised. On the contrary.
Everything is properly planned with a very concrete will to project an image of the Church: open, dialoguing, friendly, culturally accessible and carefully kept away from any symbol that could be uncomfortable in the current political and media climate.
It is for this reason that Bad Bunny is presented as an opportunity to “create bridges,” while other places deeply linked to Spanish Catholic identity do not even appear on the travel map.
Meanwhile, some of the great historical and spiritual symbols of Spanish Catholicism have been left completely out of the agenda: neither the Valley of the Fallen, nor Covadonga, nor Cerro de los Ángeles, nor El Pilar, nor Santiago de Compostela or El Rocío.
The discomfort with one’s own symbols
Let us be clear. The problem is not that a Pope can meet with a singer. The Church has always dialogued with artists, rulers, intellectuals and people of all conditions.
The issue is different.
The issue is why there seems to be today much more ecclesial comfort in approaching the cultural universe of globalized entertainment than in confidently reclaiming the great historical symbols of Spanish Catholicism.
The Valley of the Fallen continues to be treated as a practically toxic space for a large part of the hierarchy. Covadonga, the spiritual cradle of the Reconquista and a symbol of the birth of Christian Spain, does not even appear.
The Cerro de los Ángeles — national consecration to the Sacred Heart — remains completely outside the official narrative.
It is clear that traditional symbols generate today more ecclesial nervousness than any international reggaeton star.
The Church of the “hug”
Cobo’s own words also reflect a very concrete way of presenting the faith. When speaking about the papal vigil with the young people, the cardinal described it mainly as “an embrace.”
Not as a call to conversion. Not as a meeting with Christ. Not as a proclamation of the Gospel. But as an affective and human shared experience.
The problem comes when the specifically Christian content begins to disappear behind a vague emotional spirituality. Something similar happens when Cobo defends the award given to Rosalía.
What is important — he explains — is not that it represents an orthodox Catholic spirituality, but a certain “search” shared for “the great values.”
The problem is not that the Church extends its hand to those who seek, doubt or live far from the faith. Christianity has always gone out to meet concrete man, with his contradictions and wounds.
The question is what happens after that first bridge: whether that approach truly leads to the announcement of Christ and the Gospel or whether everything ends reduced to a vague experience of accompaniment, listening and shared search without a clear proposal of truth, conversion and salvation.
The symbols that no longer seem comfortable
Perhaps the most revealing feature of this visit is not the possibility of a meeting with Bad Bunny. Nor the gestures toward the contemporary cultural world. The Christianity has always dialogued with its time.
What is truly significant is which symbols are considered presentable today and which seem to have become a problem.
Because while the “bridges” toward the outside are constantly insisted upon, it appears that some within the Church feel a growing discomfort toward a large part of their own historical, spiritual and civilizing memory.
And that probably explains much better the identity crisis of Western Catholicism than any mass concert in Madrid.